


Wonderwar

by dangeropolis



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mute Dave, circus AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangeropolis/pseuds/dangeropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert, the boy born with a silver spoon and the big wide world in his palms. But it's all thrust away from him when a dark usurping creates fires in places there shouldn't be. Cast off and finding solitude in a upbeat circus run by the most odd characters one could ever meet, he's faced with a war he couldn't possible fight in.</p><p>And don't even get him started on the blond boy who's words spill from his fingers like dripping rain. He's a mystery all on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prince Egbert was a long way from home. His home, with long marbling towers and a cluster of handmaids waiting on his every order. His home, with the endless amounts of jesters his father had hired just for his entertainment that the prince didn't even really like. His home, with his father so buried in work that he barely even saw him anymore. His home, where his nanna used to bake a cake for random occasions, like "Happy 3rd Tuesday of the Month!" His home, where he was the sole heir of an entire kingdom.

Yeah, Prince Egbert was a long way from home.

But he didn't even think of it.

On his way through the twisting forests, he had encountered a stray flyer, advertising for Alternia, the most wondrous and bizarre traveling cirque in all of the universe. John had remembered his father taking him to festivals like that, so he followed the general direction of what the flyer said. What he encountered was a vast landscape of sunsets drenched in pink and the atmosphere building with joy and excitement. There were crowds of people heading towards the towering tents of red and blue, the lanterns illuminating the outside performers and awe-inspired children.

He approached the ticket booth, afraid that the vendor might recognize him as the prince. But he quickly realized the vendor was blind, with flashing red glasses and a mouth full of sharp teeth that grinned wide when he dropped a few coins into her slim fingers. She nodded, and gestured to the rest of the circus without a word. He began to take a step into the circus grounds, when she tugged his arm back, sniffing a little.

"Forgot to ink you," she enunciated, and her tongue poked out a little. She took out a feather quill, dipped it into a blue ink bottle out of an array of colors, and drew a funny little symbol on his hand of swirling lines.

"T-thank you," he stuttered, assuming it was for, and quickly walked away, rubbing his hand cautiously, which only made the ink hiss and burn permanently into his skin. Strangely, it didn't hurt. He was too busy staring at the wondrous contraptions this place had thought of. A man in a double tier bicycle approached him and handled him a soft pink balloon, refusing to accept the coin John pulled out of his pocket, only shaking his head and grinning widely before wheeling away.

The circus itself wasn't one huge big top like he expected. It was a smattering of smaller, cozier tents, all with signs advertising different abilities. Unsure of where to go first, he started his journey to his right, tugging on his long blue jacket that matched his eyes. As he walked by each tent, a different long-legged being would be standing outside the tent, attempting to coax him into the tent.

"Hey, you seem purrfect for my love predictions! I'm paw-sitive! Come on in, I'll tell you what your heart really desires," a yellow eyed girl asked, short and skinny. Her smile was close lipped, beckoning. At first glance, one might think that she was delicate and fragile, but it was quite the opposite. Her muscles were defined, and cut to show rigorous labor in her past. 

"Hey! You! Want to see real strength? Come into the tent, there are strong men in here!" A muscular body-builder told him, sweating profusely. His tent was larger, and inside you could see men grunting from their attempts to lift various weights. John took a step back, shaking his head. The yellow-eyed girl rolled her eyes.

"Equius! You're scaring him away!" she said.

"Fiddlesticks. Sorry, sir," he said to the prince, giving a weak smile in apology, showing an array of smashed teeth. John nodded, swallowing fear, and walked on. The calls to enter other's tents only grew stronger, a pressuring build up of performers who were salesmen in disguise. 

"I can bring you luck, hot thing-"

"I can show you science! Science! Not fake magic like the other lowly cretins here-"

"Looks like you need a motherfucking miracle, my brother-"

Ignoring them all, his shoes crunched in the sweet spring grass as the gypsy blue moon rose steadily in the sky.

He passed by another tent, that was stark red with no signs or ornaments around it. Only a man, or a boy, John's age, with black sunglasses and blonde hair. He wore a black suit, in stark contrast to the casual and somewhat outlandish clothing of everyone around him. They stared at eachother as the prince walked past, not saying a single word. He was about to say something, when the sunglasses boy retreated back into the tent.

The prince blinked, and tucked his front teeth away into his mouth, which he often did when he was puzzled.

"Care to see your fortune, John Egbert?"

The voice was low and smooth, coming from behind him. John Egbert spun around, raising an eyebrow and pushing up his thick framed glasses. "Excuse me? How d-did you know-"

"I'm a seer. I know everything." Her eyes are a deep purple, reflecting knowledge and wisdom. Her hair was lighter than the blonde boy's, almost a white. Bare feet curled into the grass, and she cradled a crystal ball in her hands. Out of all of the people in the circus, she actually looked like a gypsy, with a bandana wrapped around her head and a swooping skirt that fell in crisp layers. "Besides, anyone could recognize those royal blue eyes. Well, anyone outside of this sheltered circus."

Royal blue eyes. He didn't know that was a thing. John stared blankly, blinking a few times.

"Well, do you want your fortune told or not?" she asked again. He nodded shortly, and she smirked, going into the purple tent. He swept away the beaded door, into the candle-lit room. There were various antiques and miniature statues placed around the room ,and the distinct smell of cinnamon incense. She placed the crystal ball on a rounded table, sweeping her ringed hand over it. Hesitating slightly, he sat in the chair opposite her, trying to smooth his hair.

"Uh, what's your name?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

"Rose Lalonde. Now shush." Without another word, she stared at the crystal ball thoughtfully. She didn't do any dramatics; she didn't wave her hands around and shout gibberish into the air, like John expected. Rose Lalonde didn't seem like the kind of fortune teller who talked shit with zero results. "You've ran away from home."

He didn't need a crystal ball to say that. John could have told himself that. But he didn't want to be shushed again, so he kept his mouth shut.

"And for good reason. Your advisers planning for a coup d'etat? Shame," she continued. John's face whitened, horrified.

"Holy shit you cannot tell anyone about that!" John said, waving his arms about frantically. Oh god, if she told someone, then they told someone else, then he would be captured and put in jail or something. Or his kingdom would seem weak. His bodyguard said to run and not tell anyone what had happened, and that was what he was doing. Oh, jeez, oh jeez! Lalonde smiled softly.

"My lips are sealed. I only speak for the client." She placed her fingers to her black lips. Then she turned back to the ball. "I see a lot of fight. Struggle. Pain. But you are not alone. There are others. I see a fire, with the flames rising higher and higher, reflecting in your eyes. I see much love and hurt."

"Anything specific?" Egbert didn't want this psychic to be some fake, because she seemed like she knew what she was doing.

"Well-" Her tongue curled around the next word, but her eyes focused on something. Rose paused, and grabbed John's hand, pulling it towards her. She inspected the strange ink marking on his hand, her lips crawling into a small smile once again. "Oh, I see."

"What?" John asked, staring at her staring at his hand. Oh wow, he was gonna make his head hurt! 

She was about to say something, when the curtain opened again and a short young man with bags under his eyes came storming in. He had an air of arrogance about him, but not the kind royals have. Royalty have their heads held high, because they know that they were born great and can rule to show it. No, this man obviously had to work to earn anything, and the callouses on his fingertips show early labor. He was a fire with multiple coals of hard earned respect. 

"Lalonde! What the fuck is this about you and Maryam in…" he saw John there, and his attitude faltered. "Sorry, didn't know you had a client. Didn't mean to interrupt," he was quick to correct, making a move to back away. The older woman quirked a smile, and stopped him with a flick of her wrist. 

"Karkat, I'll ignore the fact that you just apologized to me, if you will come over here and see this," Rose said, and gestured for this Karkat to take a look at John's hand, making the heir very uncomfortable. "Look at the marking." After some suspicious eying, Karkat took the hand of the prince, staring down at the blue ink that the girl gave you earlier. John's skin bristled against the contact; Karkat's hands are ice cold to contrast with the flames in his eyes. 

"Well shit in an uncle's fucking monkey," Karkat breathed. "Did Terezi give this to him?" he turned to John to address him. "Did a freaky girl with red glasses mark this on you?"

"Yeah," John says, hesitantly. "Didn't she mark everyone? To get in?" He jerks his hand away, subconsciously rubbing against it. 

"No," Karkat said slowly, like John was dumb and didn't know anything. 

Rose smiled again, looking at John in a completely different light. "Looks like we have our new Breath."


	2. Chapter 2

Karkat paled, as if he wasn't already stressed enough. John's eyes flashed further confusion and frustration as nobody informed him what was going on. What was going on involved Karkat rushing outside the tent and "spreading the word", whatever that meant. Rose peered at him curiously. "Interesting. Future heir to the now usurped throne, come with me," she said, outstretching a delicate hand. He took it, and was lead out into the summer evening. People were filing into the biggest tent for the main event, abandoning cotton candy, jugglers, and various other minimal entertainment for the flashing lights and ambiance from the inside. Rose didn't take you in there, though. She lead him to the "backstage" of sorts, behind the main entrance and lifted up the tent.

He was met with twelve pairs of eyes staring at him in wonder. He took a hesitant step back, but Rose pushed him forward.

"This is him," Rose said. Everyone circles around him. "Breath." The girl with red glasses cackled.

"I told you guys!" she said, inhaling the scent of John's suede blue jacket with no hesitation. "He's the one! I can smell it on him."

"He doesn't look like a higher blooded royal," A lanky teenager with a purple streak in his hair noted, and a muscular man agreed by nodding.

"Neither do you, hipster fag!" A girl pipes up, looking in about her mid-twenties, and fingering odd looking dice in her hands. She pulled her blue lips in a smirk when the boy huffed in anger.

"Excuse me, these rings are signatures from the great islands of-"

"EVERYONE SHUT THEIR BLACK HOLED TRAPS FOR ONE MINISCULE PRESENCE AND MAYBE, OH, I DON'T KNOW, GRACE YOUR ATTENTION TO MORE IMPORTANT FUCKING MATTERS!" Karkat shouted, and everyone shut their traps and turned to him. John figured he was their leader. "Okay, does anyone know where fucking Harley is?"

"Oh!" A girl with bright pink goggles strapped around her face spoke up. "She's getting ready. Like the rest of us, should, I guess, be doing."

"Right." Karkat pinched the bridge of his nose. "Step away from the new Breath, he's unimportant to the show right now. Everyone, places. The main show's starting in ten minutes." The rest nodded, and flocked away. Karkat pointed at the heir, growling. "You. What are your talents?"

"Talents?" John squeaked, shuffling his feet a little. "Uh, I guess, back at home, I would bake some, and I was really good at telling what was going to happen at the end of a movie, and-"

"Useless. Anything else?"

"I, uh, can play the piano?" Quite well, actually. But if there's one thing he learned as a royal, nothing's more important than modesty. Karkat frowned deeply, which John took as a smile.

"Perfect, almost. Can you read sheet music?"

"Yeah…"

"Fucking awesome. Okay, shit for brains, you're going to go over to that imperfect asshole over there, and he's going to show you what to do. One screw up, one fucking slip up, no matter how miniscule, and you're out. Got it?" he asked, shrugging into a leather jacket and tight leggings, which John giggled to himself about, only a little bit. But he nodded, at attention.

Imperfect asshole? Who in the name could he be talking about-

"Strider!" Karkat snapped, his voice sounding throughout the backstage area. The blonde boy with the sunglasses from before came out of one of the dressing rooms, straightening his cardinal red tie. The heir took a step back, and the blonde just simply stared at him again.Or, John assumed that he was staring, but he couldn't tell with the sunglasses. "You have a piano player, have fun with him." Karkat gives John a little shove, and he runs right into this Strider's chest.

"H-hello…" John stammered, afraid that the taller boy was going to knock some of John's teeth out or something. He peels himself off of his shirt, and sticks out his hand. "Uh, J-John Egbert..." He usually wasn't this nervous when speaking. Advisors had given him a crapload of public speaking lessons and stuff. But these people were all so different, and didn't know that he was a prince, well they knew about it kinda, but they didn't _know_ about it that well. If that makes sense.

This Strider person didn't move, doesn't speak. Only stares blankly. Next to them, Karkat groaned loudly. 

"Dave, did you forget your fucking responder again?" Karkat asked, growling.

Dave only nods once, sighing. He jerks his head at John, shrugging his shoulders. Karkat sighed as well, turning back to the heir.

"He's a mute," he explained.

Oh.

John blinked, looking at Dave. His white and black suit was form fitting, and half of his face was covered by those silly sunglasses. Overall, he didn't seem out of the ordinary. Dave caught John examining him, so he pulled down his collar, which revealed the base of his neck. Across it was a long, twisting scar that seemed to weave like weeds. It was a stark red, with white borders that looked like it literally burnt. Dave lets go off his collar, hiding the scar once again. He pushed up his sleeve, and takes out a black ink pen from his front pocket, and began writing on the pale flesh of his arm.

John squinted to read the small neat handwriting. The handwriting didn't match the character he saw before him, but he figured after a life time of writing what he spoke, it would improve.

call me dave, not strider by the fucking way. strider was my bro. sheet music is on the piano, dont fuck up and youll do fine, your highness

After reading, John nodded once. "Thanks, Dave."

Karkat has already disappeared, yelling at others. "Is he the leader?" John asked. Dave shook his head once, and pointed at an late-twenties man with duo colored glasses. Dave began writing again.

sollux is the tech bitch but harleys the real boss around here

"Well I'm sure we're gonna have loads of fun!" John said enthusiastically, feeling a little like his old stuff. He didn't want to treat Dave like a broken baby bird, because Dave probably wanted to be treated like a normal person. Instead of writing anything, Dave just nodded his head. 

Sollux, John assumed, clicked his tongue at him, approaching from a distance and checking his clipboard. "Thrider, take breath boy to the arena, thow tharts in three." He stared down John, chewing on the end of an ink pen. He could see faint ink stains around his lips, which made John giggle at a little bit.

"You laughing at my lithp?" Sollux accused, narrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh, no!" John corrected with a flustered blush. "Of course not!" John swore that he saw Dave twitch his lip upwards into a smirk, but it was probably a hallucination.

"Good. Get to your fucking pit," Sollux growled, pointing with his inky fingers to the arena.

Suddenly, Dave was leading him into a large arena, with seats set up with rows and rows of people. Thank god John's image was often hidden from any media that might be lurking about; he wouldn't want an entire audience asking why the heir to the throne was playing piano in a commoner's circus. Dave headed towards a small area to the side, which was set up with a drumset, a piano, and a trumpet. Dave pushed up his sunglasses, and pulled a pair of drumsticks from his back pocket. Terezi appeared out of nowhere, flashing the audience a shit eating grin and picking up the trumpet, licking the entire mouthpiece before motioning to John to sit down at the piano. He did as he was told, and set up his sheet music as quickly as he could.

The lights dimmed, and a single green spotlight was shown in the middle of the ring. Usually a green spot was used to make a person appear sickly, but for some reason, as you saw the girl stepping into it, John felt the green was just perfect. She had long raven black hair that swooped down to her ankles, near her green high heels. Her dress had glittery reflections of the stars on it, and she was wearing a necklace with another odd symbol on it, some sort of a swirly white thing. She was wearing an ostentatious top hat, and rose a her nimble hands in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am the Grand Harley, and I am your ringleader for tonight's wonderful performance!"

"Jade overdid the green again," Terezi whispered under her breath.

Jade gave the audience a twinkling smile. "For our first act, I present to you, the brave, the mighty, The Executor!"

"That's our cue, blueberries," Terezi prodded, and John began to lightly tap on the keys in a jazzy upbeat tempo. Dave and Terezi followed suit, and John struggled to keep up with the music on the sheet and the fingers, so soon he began playing by ear, and thankfully neither of his bandmates noticed.

The Executor was the burly man from before the show, and he began balancing various things on his chin. First, a stool, then, on top of that, a small bed. The audience oo'd and aah'd, when the items got heavier and heavier. Soon, the yellow eyed love girl from earlier slithered onto the ring, wearing a fake cat's tail that swooshed back and forth. With a lavish wink to the audience, she began climbing the mountain of items on the Executor's chin, sitting on the top item (a chair) and waving to the audience. Then she began throwing the items down to Jade below. After it was over, the girl and the burly man bowed to the audience, and received a smattering applause.

"Up next, the magical performances presented by the dynamic duo, The Seer and The Sylph!"

Rose and a slender girl walk out from opposite sides of the ring.

Kanaya levitates Rose eight feet into the air, much to everyone's shock and awe. Or something. He wasn't paying attention, really, because constant piano playing was hard work. John fumbled a bit on his notes, but nobody noticed, so it was all okay.

"Gotta go guys, have fun!" Terezi whispered, setting down the trumpet and disappearing backstage. Dave rested his drumsticks on the cymbal, so John figured it was a break or something, when Jade announced the next act.

"Everyone, please be completely silent for our gorgeously spooky act, The Scourge Sisters!"

The blue lipped girl had changed into gravity defying black boots, lacing to the knee. She gave a wide smile to the audience, who all flinched in response. Terezi was quick at dressing, she probably had assistance, because as she stepped out in a teal and red pantsuit, nobody recognized her as the creepy trumpeter in the musician's tent.

"Dicks and vaginas, I need you all to take off any sunglasses, hats, or anything that might obscure your view!" the blue lipped girl said. Terezi sat on a plain stool in the center, putting her hands in her lap. The audience paused, not sure if what she just said was meant to be taken seriously, when the girl growled, and pointed at a random onlooker in the front row. "Hey greasy face, I said to take off your sunglasses!"

Jade dug her palm into her forehead from offstage.

"Thank you, Vriska," Terezi said, and she too, took off the oversized red glasses perched on her nose. Her eyes were the same color as the glasses, no pupil to be found. She turned her head to meet the eyes of everyone in the audience, luring them to stare into her eyes.

John began to stare at well, when he felt an elbow in his side. Dave shook his head ever so slightly at him, motioning for him to stare at his lap. The heir gulped, keeping his line of sight directed at his crotch, not the trumpeter's steel gaze.

"Now," Terezi began, her tongue jutting out and back into her mouth, like a snake. "Don't look away! Keep looking. My eyes are weird, huh? Just keep looking."

The audience was completely transfixed, unable to look away. Vriska smiled even wider, and did a cartwheel as she made her way into the stands. One by one, she scoured the seats, slipping a wallet of watch off of the hypnotized patrons. She did this with a whimsical manner, occasionally flipping over a set of stairs of balancing on someone's head. She put all of the stolen items in her canvas brown bag, and handed the bag to Jade, who placed it offstage. John watched the entire thing in great interest, slightly horrified, but more so fascinated.

"When I snap my fingers, you will all wake up from the trance!" Terezi said after Vriska's deeds were done. She nodded at Vriska, then snapped her fingers.

Everyone jolted, as if woken from a nightmare in the dead of night. They blinked at eachother, before clapping loudly. They both stood up, bowed, and walked off.

John looked at Dave, who cocked his head in question. "You okay?" Dave mouthed carefully, sure to form his lips widely around every vowel. "You look sick."

John ignored the question, because it was true, he was sick, out of nervousness and confusion, but he dodged the answer. "Do you speak sign language?"

Dave hesitated, then nodded.

"What is 'sick' in sign language?" John asked.

Dave paused, before placing one hand on his stomach and one on his forehead. John copied the movement, before nodding in confirmation. He pointed at himself, then made the sign for sick. Dave seemed amused in his attempts, and was about to mouth something else when Harley began announcing again.

"For our next acts, the scientific magic of Dr. Ampora and his breath-taking assistant!" The purple streak teenager comes sauntering out, scowling at the audience. A tank is rolled out to the middle of the arena, completely filled with what seemed to be sea water. The assistant, the girl with pink goggles from earlier, was floating in the water, giving a wave to everyone watching. Her cheeks puffed up like a blowfish, and she kicked her feet casually, causing bubbles to rise to the murky surface.

Terezi reappeared, dressed in normal attire. She quickly picked up the trumpet, and with a nod in John's direction, picked up the song once again. John couldn't watch the act, he was too flustered with mastering the damn notes. But he could hear a smattering of applause when the entire thing was over.

A woman, probably early twenties, with stark white eyes came out and gave a polite curtsy to the audience. Silks were lowered to her level, and she began to ascend, gracefully twirling and spinning on the brightly colored fabric. She seems terribly depressed as she does this, not matching the jaunty tune that John is currently pounding out on the piano.

He starts to slow down, slowly moving from key to key, creating a new rhythm reflecting the sadness in her eyes. Terezi raises an eyebrow very high, but Dave nodded at her once. He started to only play a slow bass drum, and occasionally ting the cymbals. Terezi took the cue, and began a more haunting refrain for her trumpet.

It sounded like a funeral march.

She doesn't stop, but John does catch her looking at the musicians.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

John is not sure what she is thanking them for. He turned to Dave, who only mouthed 'I'll explain later.'

Jade came out again, after the white-eyed girl is gone, quickly wiping something from her eye. Her hair spirals around her ankles as she raised a hand in the air.

"For our final act, we have two very...unique people, to our performance." She gives a wink to the audience, before gesturing her arms above.

John crinkled his neck up, to the tightropes strung above. The spotlights turn a deep purple and red, focusing on a man sitting on the platform adjourned to the ropes. He was wearing clown makeup that had smeared over his face, and he constantly licked his lips. He smoothed his polka dotted pants before standing up. His full height was absolutely terrifying, and he seemed taller from John's low perspective.

Terezi and Dave start in on a slow, creepy version of "Entry of the Gladiators", that old song that when a person whispered the world 'circus' the other would immediately think of that jaunty tune, with stumbling, bumbling clowns waltzing in with a smile on their faces.

This was not what John thought of.

This clown was happy, he had a dopey grin on his face, and he seemed out of his mind, but there was something slightly disturbing about it. He was tossed a unicycle, which he galloped on easily. He began wheeling across the dangerously thin rope. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, both mortified and fascinated at their hopes of him plummeting hundreds of feet into a bloody, gorey death.

John noticed Karkat readying himself on the trapeze right below the other man's, dressed in pornographically tight leggings that glitter in the flash of the spotlights. Whoever the designer was certainly didn't have any qualms about cutting off circulation in the wearer.

Grumbling, Karkat readied himself on the horizontal bar, and with one push of his leg, he was swinging through the air as the man on the unicycle began to juggle. Perhaps not a cirque show, but John thought it all wonderful, a true circus performance. As Karkat was swinging, he wrapped his legs around the bar and outstretched his hands. When he came within distance, he grabbed the hands of the man. The juggling pins all fell, scattering to the ground below. The man began swinging with Karkat, holding his hands tight and grinning widely.

"Whoa man," John swore he heard the man say as his wild hair tossed through the air.

The music came faster and faster, pulsing through his veins like an adrenaline rush. Karkat threw the man through the air with tremendous effort. The man then soared, flipping backwards a few times before shooting down at a speed too fast to live. He waves at the audience, and just before his body makes contact with the ground, a puff a purple smoke comes up, and the man disappears in the fumes. Everyone stared at, and when they look up to watch the traipsing Karkat once more, they find that he has disappeared as well.

The Grand Harley appeared out of the purple smoke, smiling and waving to a cheering and hooting crowd.

"Thank you all for coming to our show tonight. We hope you find it quite wondrous!"

With another dramatic sweep of her hand, green dust levitates out of her extraordinary dress, swirling around and around her body. Her hair lifts and separates, hiding her face from view. Soon, she is gone as well. The house lights go up, and the show is over.

Children leave with a sparkle in their eye,whilst adults simply discard their popcorn in the aisle and leave chewing gum under the seats. They all shuffle out one by one, chattering about what illusion or trick the performers did, not realizing the true magic that has happened tonight. The lanterns around the ring are blown out with care, workers quick to sweep up the leftover trash. Soon, the arena is empty, except the musicians. John rests his hands on his lap, wiping his brow with his shoulder.

"Wow, that was a whole lot of work!"

"Get used to it rasberry extreme," Terezi said. "It's an every night kind of thing." She looked over her shoulder, noticing someone backstage. "Hey, Vriska! Where's the loot!" she called, abandoning her instrument to run after the blue lipped girl.

Soon, the ring is silent again. John tidied up his large stack of sheet music, as Dave loosened some stands for his drums. John is slightly disappointed to see that his royal-casual blue clothing has dirtied a bit, but upon remembering the incidents prior to last night, he wasn't sure he wanted to wear royal colors anymore. He should probably get a new set of clothes soon. Good thing he took some money before he left.

A tap on his shoulder.

John turned around, and Dave showed his pale arm again. New writing had appeared.

nice job egbert. we have dinner outside when everyones gone follow me

Dave pushed his white-blonde hair out of his shades, his sleeve falling back into place. With a small gesture of his head, John was trailing after the red suited boy, out of the grand tent. He noticed that Dave had untied his heavy shoes to drum, and his bare feet was trampling the soft evening grass, letting the fireflies rise up out from their slumbering holes in the dirt. They drifted to the air, blinking softly against the night sky. One buzzed past John's nose, and he sneezed from the vibration. Dave stopped walking, and turned to look at him. John thought Dave was going to legitimately smile, but his face remained as stoic as ever. John really wanted to see Dave grin as large as he can.

They went to the edge of the circus grounds, where a twisting grove of trees blocked and entrance. Dave put his finger to his lips to indicate silence, before squeezing through a space near the bottom. John did the same, and they both emerged in a circular clearing.

On the dirt ground, there was a long, long rectangular table set up, a blue tablecloth placed on the top. Candles were lit, plates and utensils were set. Thirteen of them were sitting and clamoring at the seats, talking over eachother. Jade Harley was sitting at one end of the table, Karkat at the other end. Kanaya, Rose's partner from her act, was dumping mysterious food on the plates, and she gave a brief fluttering smile at John. There were two empty seats near Jade.

"Finally you two! Come sit!" Jade said, eagerly patting the empty chairs. Her long elegant hair had been tied up in a ponytail, and she had traded her dress for a vest/skirt combination. John hesitated, but with a nod from Dave, sat in the chair nearest to Jade. Dave sat as well.

Almost everyone was barefoot, feeling the soft dirt underneath and wrestling up even more fireflies. John liked his painted yellow shoes, so he preferred them on. Before he could even smell the food set in front of him, Jade lifted her wine glass.

"It was a great show tonight guys," she began.

"Except Equius missed his cue, again!" Vriska remarked snidely. The muscular one, who's stage name was The Executor, snarled at the girl, and promptly ignored her.

"Hey, you're the one with the meany-pants act!" someone piped up.

"Stop protecting your moirail, Nepedur!" Vriska shot back.

Nepeta hissed, leaning back and narrowing her eyes.

"Stop it, stop it!" Jade said, exasperated. "Let me finish! It was a great show." She turned to John, her smile returning again. "Tonight, we apparently had a new addition to our family. An escaped prince from the Egbert family."

"The one that was taken over?" The magic scientist person asked, drawing to attention.

"Yes, but I'm sure John doesn't want to talk-"

"What was it like? Who died? How was it planned? The name's Eridan, by the way. Eridan Ampora, and I am glad there is another royal among us, there is just-"

He was promptly punched in the arm by Feferi.

"Wow, rude, Eridan! Don't pepper him with questions!" Jade said. "As I was saying," she continued through gritted teeth, and as she curled her fingers into a tight fist, John noticed the colored strings tied on her fingers. "He escaped, and ended up here. Am I right?" Her huge green eyes drifted to John, who squirmed in his seat.

"Y-yeah."

She brightened. "Well, I'm glad you're here! We sure do need a talented piano player!"

"Wait, Jade," Rose said, across from Nepeta. Her unblinking purple eyes bore into John's. "He hasn't said anything about staying."

The entire table was silent, all watching the escaped heir of a massive kingdom.

John gulped.

"Stay John!"

"Yeah, do it!"

"I don't care either way."

"Can we eat already?"

"We need a motherfucking bro like you up in here!"

"The decision, I believe, is his." The sad-eyed girl's voice cut through the rest. It's hollow echo rang through John's skull.

"Aradia's right, guys!" Jade said. "If he wants to stay, he's welcome to!"

John looked at the fourteen mismatched beings sitting at a table on a hot summer's night, their face illuminated by candles and fireflies.

"Sure, I'd be happy to!" John said, grinning. The table bursts into chatter again, all discussing matters to be sorted out. Jade clinks her glass with a fork, stomping her foot.

"I propose a toast to our newest member, Prince John Egbert! Welcome to the Cirque!"

Everyone raised their glasses, clinking and drinking the deep claret wine.

John took a sip too, gulping down the horrible taste.

With the noise and excitement around him, he almost missed Dave Strider staring at him with silent, silent words.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dad!" he screamed, pushing back against the burly chests of the guards, gritting his teeth and wishing he had his hammer to pound these guys. "DAD!" Tears streamed down his face, and he struggled even more._

_"Don't worry, kid. He'll be fine," his special body guard, Ryan, whispered to him, patting his face comfortingly._

_"I'm not a child! He needs my help!" John protested, stomping his foot. The other maids dressed him in clothing, packed a satchel with everything he needed, placed a good amount of coin in his pocket._

_"You really think your old man would surrender to those damn imps so easily? He's a strong man, you know that," Ryan continued, but John wasn't listening._

_"But I want to fight them," John said pathetically, staring at his feet. Ryan tucked a thumb under his chin, jerking his head up._

_"We need you safe. Now stop your tears, you're seventeen, and one tough cookie."_

_There were explosions from outside the stronghold, smattering against the strong stone._

_"Now run."_

_John nodded, wiping the tears away, and making his way down the royal escape tunnel, not looking back at his home._

_When he made it above ground, the night seemed calm. He was shivering, but out of fear. Shaking, he pulled an apple out of his satchel, and took a bite. He was a few miles away from the castle, but there was no mistake as he looked out._

_In the distance, all he saw were the flames of his homeland._

John woke with a start, sweat dripping off of his forehead. He was done with tears, too many have already been shed. Besides, he had been losing some serious mangrit recently due to his grief.

Where was he?

The items in the room he was in were mere shadows, vague outlines of various furniture. He saw the soft moon-rays of light reflecting off of the tent.

Tent.

Oh right, he was apart of the circus. He was to be apart of the band, and he had been put in a tent with someone else for the night, because there had been a vacant cot in there. Usually, they said, everyone would sleep outside in hammocks as the night wore on. But the frost was too much, so he was in a tent tonight.

Pure white eyes opened and blinked at him.

"Are you all right, John?" Aradia asked, her voice light like bells. John found her slightly unnerving at first, but she didn't mock him for the stuffed bunny he slept with, so he was okay with her.

"Yes," he said, voice cracking as he struggled to hide the pain from his dreams.

She blinked again, leftover glitter makeup falling from her eyelashes.

"Your father loves you very much," she said evenly. John rose an eyebrow, but he doubted she could see it in the darkness. He curled into a ball, letting the thin blanket rest over his shaking shoulders.

"I know. I just wished I could have helped."

Aradia closed her eyes once again. "In French, the word for doom is the same word for destiny."

"What?"

"Goodnight, Prince Egbert." Then all he heard was her light snores.

He wished people would stop calling him that. He didn't deserve the title of the heir.

Pushing the thoughts out of his mind, he turned over to his side, pulled back into his nightmares.

"WELL HELLO PRINCESS, I'M SURE YOU'RE HAVING A DANDY TIME PLAYING IN FUCK-VILLE WITH YOUR UNICORN FRIENDS AND BASICALLY NOT DOING SHIT, BUT DOUCHE CANOE AND YOU NEED TO SET UP, SO GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS UP AND SWEEP THE GROUNDS."

John peeled open his eyes to be met with the lovely Karkat, snarling and gnarling at him. John sat up, and stretched his arms wide. "Okay Karkat! I hope you're having a lovely morning." Another lesson from being a royal, smile at every frown you see.

"Yeah, yeah. No one cares about your after school special attitude. Get up."

He threw a bright blue circus uniform at his face, and John pulled it on in a hurry. Aradia's bed was empty and already made, almost to perfection. The servants back home usually made his bed for him, but servants were long gone, so he attempted to throw his blanket back on the mattress in a slightly tidy order, but it failed miserably. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was of no use. When he was ready to head out, he remembered that he had to put his crown on! He couldn't go out without a crown, it was- Oh. Right. Nevermind.

He stumbled outside to the circus grounds. It hadn't opened to the public yet, that wasn't until later that night. Everyone was buzzing about, carrying around heavy items, cleaning up leftover trash, and grumbling about chores.

"Oh, he's awake!" The one named Nepeta said, cartwheeling over to John in an oversized green jacket. Underneath the jacket, she wasn't wearing anything except a flimsy half shirt, so John could see the ridiculously ripped abs she was showing off. Which made him kind of jealous. "You sleep in late!"

"It's only eight in the morning..." John replied, rubbing his eyes with an open fist.

"Like I said, late!" She giggled, and John noticed the long scars across her cheek when her face hit the sunlight, like a cat had scratched her or something. "You're assigned to sweeping the ring with Dave! Lucky, I hate being on laundry duty!"

"Oh, well, thank you Nepeta."

"Nepeta, let us return to our duties," Equius said, appearing behind the girl, staring at John. "Leave the royal alone." 

"Oh, of course Equius!" she waved goodbye to him, rolling her eyes in apology, then scampered off with the muscular man. John was left behind to trek his way back to the main tent. The morning air was humid, and it fogged up his glasses a bit. He never got up this early.

The ring was completely empty, but he spotted a broom next to the stands, so he began sweeping the seats. There was a lot of trash left behind from last night, and it was a nice distraction from his thoughts. He would sing old nursery songs under his breath, seeing how he didn't know any other songs. With his broom, he got into a dancing groove. He swung his hips to the beat in his head, and suddenly remembered a jaunty tune the jester used to sing to the court. He repeated the lyrics out loud, really getting the jive down. Soon he was spinning and step-ball-changing and doing a box step, when he ran smack into Dave Strider.

"Ah!" he gasped, falling back into the ground with a thump. Dave stared down at him, and offered a hand to help him back up. "Thanks Dave! I can't believe you saw that, so embarrassing, hehehe!"

"I thought it was pretty amusing," Dave said. John started to laugh when-

Wait.

Dave said?

It didn't sound like a person, it sounded like a mechanic voice, tinny and old, like from one of those new fangled radios Dad had showed him once. John blinked, and Dave pulled down his collar again. There was a tiny box attached to the skin, with a blinking red light and an speaker-like thing on it.

"It's an autoresponder," Dave continued, but John saw that his lips didn't actually move, it was the box that was speaking. "My bro invented it to help me speak. I hate it, it doesn't represent the Strider-swag."

"So, is that your voice? Are you actually speaking or does the box have a life of its own?" He's never seen anything like it before, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"No, it's a robot voice. My real life voice would probably not sound so fucking terrible. I'm actually speaking, kind of. It detect brain waves or some complicated shit like that. I prefer not to use it, it freaks me out. But I needed to talk to you."

John paused with his sweeping, facing the blonde boy. "Why? Am I in trouble?"

"What? No." Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. "But you have questions, and I hate how elusive and enigmatic these guys pretend to be. So I have a deal for you." He took the broom from John, and began to sweep over some of the dirt John had left behind. "I'll answer any question you have to the best of my knowledge. No bullshit, no hemming and hawwing, just a straight answer."

John sat down on the benches, staring up at the boy. "In exchange for what?" He wasn't really interested in asking questions, really. Another rule about being a prince is that you have to keep your nose out of a lot of business. Hushed meetings, closed doors, all of that stuff. 

Dave shrugged, "When I first came here, I was like you-"

"Oh, a cool kid like you was like an immature child such as myself?" John teased, but his voice died when he saw Dave stiffen.

"-I was like you," Dave continued, his voice unable to portray emotion but his face saying it all. "someone they kept here out of interest. They played the mystery act too, and it bugged the shit out of me. Either that or trying to tiptoe around my disability." He said disability like it was a curse word, recoiling as his own mouth said. John punched Dave's arm, rolling his eyes.

"Once you get past the odd little mechanical voice," John started, scratching his nails against the soft wood of the bleachers. "It's not that noticeable," he finished.

Dave furrowed his eyebrows, and wow John really just wanted to rip those sunglasses off of his face. The blonde boy sat down next to John, pulling his legs to his chest and biting his lip. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah, I barely even think about it now," John lied. He didn't want to hurt Dave's feelings, but every time that foreign voice came out everywhere except those lips, it struck the wrong chord within John. "Maybe you're just making it too overdramatic, dude!" he continued, lolling his head to the side.

"I'm...what..." Dave breathed, his autoresponder crackling a tad.

With a flurry of tent canvas going amok, a steaming Karkat comes storming into the ring, giving a dramatic sweep of his arm at the two boys sitting down. "I knew you fuckers would slack off! Why Jade gave you two the role of sweeping is completely beyond me!" He ground his teeth together, shoving his weathered newsboy cap further on his head as he stomped his foot. "What do you have to say for yourselves?" John felt like a scolded child with that condescending look on Karkat's face.

Dave pulled his collar up subtly so Karkat couldn't see the auto-responder, and began signing words. John, in interest, watched as his hands moved in such a flurry of motions that it made him dizzy just thinking about translating it. Different signals lapsing together in a language of action, not words. As Dave went further on with whatever he was saying, Karkat narrowed his eyes.

"Don't smart-ass me, Strider! Just because I don't know the dick-breath dribble leaking out of your fingers doesn't mean I don't want to take a candle stick and ram it into those infallible listening holes of yours while reciting the thirteen commandments of oh look, I don't give a flying shit! Your worthless ass will be grilled on the platter of my choosing, preferably on a dark fiery pit that no person has ever returned from, other than your whimsical ass I'll be so lucky to mount on my wall of inconceivable douchtards. It'll be a damn miracle if I don't end up using used tissues to wipe off your snotty remarks that come pounding out of those breakable fingers, that I might just use for throwing it in the face of your little charades. Now shut it with the sign language, and get your prissy ass moving before I take it to a chinese restaurant to make into second rate chicken rice. No one will buy it, for your empty information!"

With that tirade, Karkat stomped out, grey shoes leaving imprints on the ground.

Dave fell back, his mouth open and breathing heavily. His adam's apple bobbed up and down, throat jerking erratically. He was holding his sides like they were about to fall into pieces, and John looked on in horrified manner. 

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Dave paused, and smirked. "I was laughing," he said, mechanic voice ringing through John's ears. "The autoresponder can't pick up laughter, so I sort of just chuckle to myself in silence when I have to. It's great."

John waited a few beats before laughing as well. It was sort of funny, seeing Karkat get himself get so worked up about the littlest things. It was a hoot and a haw, so he slapped his knee as his chortles echoed through the empty stadium. Dave joined in too, his silent guffaws matching his own. "What," he giggled, "did you even say to him?"

Dave shrugged, rolling off the question with ease. "Every single time I speak to him in sign language, he accuses me of saying the worst things about him without him knowing. So I sort of just mess with him by doing exactly the opposite. I started saying how great of a manager he is, and how his voice is synonymous with the melodies of the birds, et cetera, et cetera."

"That's pretty great," John said, sighing contently. "But we better get back to work."

"We would," Dave agreed. "But it's time for breakfast, and I'm as hungry as fuck."

He pushed his sunglasses further up on the bridge of his nose, and got off of the seats. He gave a short nod to John, and left the tent.

It was only until Dave was gone that John remembered he was supposed to ask him questions to get answers.

John was going to ask where Dave's brother was now.

 

Everyone was allowed to wander around the city the circus was currently in, as long as they were back by four o'clock sharp. Many took this opportunity to shop and get the roasting cinnamon buns down the street, but John had wanted to find out more about what happened that night when he left. He hadn't been able to access any newspapers at all. Dave offered to come with him, and somehow, Gamzee, the one with the seemingly permanent clown makeup on, had tagged along. Dave had taken off his auto-responder though, so John couldn't really have a decent conversation with him.

The town was the first one John had been in since his escape. Sure, he had stopped at a few inns here and there, but it was too dangerous for a runaway heir in a crowded city. Vriska had loaned him a messy brown wig that itched his scalp, just to hide his identity. Gamzee and Dave flanked his sides, and John felt the former wasn't too fond of the latter. Gamzee lit up a clove cigarette, blowing the smoke with a casual stride as they all walked down the main streets. Dave mentioned earlier that he was smoking the cigarettes to ween off of his opium addiction.

The town itself wasn't too spectacular. It was a sleepy village, really, with its mix of hurried businessmen and scrambling children, with shops opened for the midday rush. Before John left, his father was arranging a tax plan to help these low income places bring up revenue, or something. John never paid attention during those meetings, he'd rather be messing around in his room, or helping his nanna play awesome pranks on the visiting dukes.

The shops, strangely, had plastered posters in a foreign language, showing John's face on it. It was a crude drawing, his hair was much too tangled and his face far too large (his teeth aren't that big right?), but sure enough, it was him. John stared at it, mouth agape. He jabbed a finger in Gamzee's chest. "What does it say?" John asked sharply.

"I don't know man," Gamzee said, taking out his cigarette and holding it in his fingers. The smoke blew into John's face, suffocating him. "I don't speak the Royal's Tongue."

"What is that?" He's never heard of such a language.

Gamzee shrugged. "Proper motherfucking language used to communicate without the peasants knowing it. Only those within the Queen's court and certain areas know it. Same goes with the militia, the leaders of other countries, and other important bitchtitting people."

"But it has my face on it," John faltered, squinting at the curvy lettering. "What if it's calling me home?"

Dave sighed loudly next to him, pulling out a black marker from his red vest pocket. He began writing on the poster underneath the Royal's Tongue, translating it for the other two.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: PRINCE EGBERT OF SUBURTIA, TRAITOR TO THE THRONE. REWARD: 500,000 TENTES.

"Whoa man, that's a lot of moolah," Gamzee commented, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth.

John's mouth runs dry, and he collapsed to his knees on the brick pavement.

"Traitor to the throne," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Dave sat next to him, not knowing how to comfort him. "The Queen," he asked, throat dry and hoarse. "Who's the Queen of this land?"

Gamzee considered this, sucking in the smoke once more. "Well, in this area, it's this scary-ass bitch right here."

He plucked a newspaper from the stand next door, flipping a coin to the owner, and presented it to John.

The Condesce apparently was her official title, but the article only referred to her as Her Imperious Condescension. Her picture was dark, as if she had hidden in the shadows when the photo was taken. In the picture, one could only see her tyrian lips, pulled into a vicious smile, her glowing crown, and the huge trident for which she was apparently famous for.

KINGDOM EXPANDS: IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION WINS SUBURBTIA WITH PEACEFUL TREATY

The article goes on to explain that her many calm and negotiating talks with King Egbert led to his handing over of his once powerful kingdom. The King was cited as being tired and bored with his kingdom, and willingly gave it over. Her Imperious Condescension is planning to use the new land to better and improve the nation, and to spread peace throughout the world. King Egbert's son John has been missing for a month now, presumably a traitor to the throne, and any information about his whereabouts would be greatly rewarded.

John's hands shook as he read.

"Lies, lies, lies," he spat, each word in the newspaper another stab between his shoulder blades. "My father was usurped! Peace was not a word in the entire incident!" His breathing was choppy and rough, and his vision began to blur as the consequences of this all dawned on him. Everything was spinning. In his foggy hearing, he could hear Gamzee's slurred speech.

"Maybe you were mistaken, my princely brother. Maybe your dad was a crappy-ass motherfucker, and bitchtits had a thing for him. Who knows? Everything you know is probably-"

There was the sound of knuckles against a face and a pound on the concrete sidewalk. John felt a steady hand on his shoulder. His breathing evened out.

When his eyes focused, Gamzee was bleeding on the ground and Dave was staring at John intently.

"Dave!" John cried, staring at Gamzee. "What the hell!"

Dave's mouth dropped open slightly, like John's reaction was not what he expected. Gamzee stirred a little before sitting up, instantly lighting another cigarette. "Don't worry, brother," he said to John. "It's how we work. Our relationship is as black as the ink you write with. He beats the living shit out of me, I play some motherfucking sick mindgames on him while he's sleeping. It's all good."

John looked to Dave for confirmation. "So you punch him in the face and its all dandy? Uh, no offense, but that's messed up."

Dave nodded, shrugging slightly, as if to say 'that's how it is'.

Gamzee gave a short barking laugh, smoke rising to the blue skies. "Yeah, man. It's a regular thing among gypsies and circus freaks. You should see how sisters Rose and Vriska get at each other. Scary as all hell."

"Okay, I get it." John rubbed at his eyes, tired from just a few short hours of wandering about. "What time is it?"

"Four fifteen," Gamzee said casually, taking out his pocketwatch.

"Oh, alright, we better head back-" John jumped up. "Wait, shit! We were supposed to be back by four!"

"Then we better get motherfucking back!"

Before they leave, John tore off the wanted poster on the shop window, crumbling it to the sidewalk.

He was never a traitor to the throne.

The news lies sometimes.

Right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i haven't updated! i've been debating about several chapters since, well, forever, but I figured i might as well publish this anyway.

**In An Alternate Timeline**

_He breathed heavily, feeling the heat press against his skin like he was a ripe bun in the oven. Starting to run again, the wind rushed past his face and his feet slammed against the concrete with a hard slap. Feeling the sword tight in his sweaty hands, he made a hard swing, his full force pushed into the motion. The aim was sloppy, at least to a trained eye like his. To a normal person, that sort of aim could hit a bullseye, every goddamn time._

_But he wasn't normal._

_And neither was his opponent._

_A hand grabbed his sword, leaving him hanging midair. Smirking, his opponent delivered a kicking blow to his stomach, lurching his sword away. This all happened in a nanosecond. Skidding across the pavement, he felt blood pool on his face and his breathing go steady. His heart thumped in his ears, and he struggled to get up. Bones and flesh screamed in protest with any sort of movement, a clear sign that this was more exercising than necessary._

_His brother loomed over him._

_“Get up,” the figure said, in an unusually bitter tone. “Try again.” He obeyed, feeling his stance wobble as his weight was off balance. Head nodding, he could barely meet his brother's shaded gaze._

_This was a different training session. This time, Bro was talking._

_“Don't throw yourself into your attack,” Bro said, blocking another sloppy swing from him. “Keep it light on your feet and stance in a medium range. Your power should come from your sword, not from your force.”_

_He got up, again again again. This was bitter work, through and through. They had started mid day, but by then the sun was already climbing down, until the entire roof was doused in the dim light of sundown. While strifes usually lasted 30 minutes, and hour tops, he was being pushed far past his limits. His stomach sloshed with cheetos and stale soda, which wasn't the greatest of fuel. Bro, however, seemed perfectly fine, the only indication of time passing was that his patience was wearing thinner and thinner._

_“Watch all of your sides,” Bro continued, flashstepping into a sneak attack from behind, slicing through his shirt and leaving a scar on his back. “Your enemy could oppress you past your blind spot. Get used to it.” Why was he like this today? Usually Bro stayed silent, shaking his head if he was doing something wrong, or nodding ever so slightly if an attack went well._

_Finally, after a particularly excruciating blow to the head, he collapsed to the ground, breathing ragged and raw._

_“I can't,” he said, ashamed. “I can't get up.”_

_“You have to,” Bro said, and for the first time in his life, he could see that Bro was exhausted. Desperate. Sad?_

_Dave Strider could only shake his head in response, leaving a sour taste in his mouth._

_This was not a normal day._

John Egbert, the usurped heir to the throne, was having a completely normal day. In fact, he was having a blast, pounding at the piano with no avail, watching the crowds ooh and ahh at the various performances the cirque had to offer. The bright lights shone on his face, illuminating his buck-toothed smile and vivid blue eyes. A burst of laughter escaped him as he played a somewhat difficult key change as Karkat was flipping through the air. Dave shook his head playfully at him, and John could practically feel the eyeroll under those sunglasses.

This was much better than being a refugee, scouring the lands and living off of dried meat and fruit. Everyone else had probably come to the same conclusion when they arrived; it seemed like everyone from the carnival had a secret, a past that was theirs and theirs alone. But really, no one honestly wanted to be without company for longer than a month or so. Or even a week. Except maybe Karkat, John was pretty sure that guy would be content with absorbing himself with his dumb books.

Today was their last day in this town. Tomorrow would be John's first day on a caravan, traveling to more adventures, more experiences.

Traveling farther away from his father.

Pushing the thought of his head, John let his spindly fingers rest on his piano, watching as Jade finished up the show with a smile and a wink.

“That was a great show, guys!” she announced afterwards over dinner. This time, he was seated in between to Equius, who took great labors at attempting to drink a glass of milk, and Vriska, who kept prattling on and on about her many great accomplishments as a thief in the big cities. It sounds like a horrible thing to say, but he'd rather sit in between Dave and Aradia on the other side of the table, because they are silent and peaceful when they eat. In a big smattering mess of bold people, sometimes John likes a little quiet.

“Though, it would have run a little more effectively if Johnny Two-Color didn’t focus so much on the silks act!,” Karkat piped up, throwing an effective glance at the lisping boy. Aradia, the silks girl herself, perked up from her meal, raising an eyebrow. Sollux, who was sitting next to her, snorted as if this was a regular complaint.

“Now, Karkat, though I'm sure Sollux appreciates the constructive criticism, perhaps we could try again in nicer words?” Jade suggested lightly, brushing Karkat on the shoulder lightly. This caused Grumpy Pants to blush and aflutter like a fish out of water.

“Right, Sollux, actually do your shit!” he corrected.

“How about you get on thage on time?”

 “How about a new costume?” Karkat suggested with a scowl. “It seems more like paint on my skin than fabric, like a piece of meat waiting to be displayed! Yeah, because I'm so okay with dogs overcoming Karkat, the juicy steak!”

“How about cats?” Nepeta murmured next to Equius with a devious grin on her face, earning a horrified look from the latter. John remembered that Nepeta was the one who caught their meal today. He swallowed hard, feeling the meat slide down his throat.

“So...Nepeta?” John began, clearing his throat. The lithe girl turned, fake tail pounding against her chair. “What was your life like before you came here?”

She grinned widely, yellow eyes flashing with mischief. “I'm glad you asked!” Equius grew pale at the memory. “I grew up on a small potato farm, working all day with barely any education! I would whisker upon stars for a difurent life, when I noticed my daddy's hacking tools. Using my clefurness, I fashioned claws out of them, and went out into the nearby woods for adventure! I expected to be back by morning, but I was having so much fun, so I kept venturing out further and further. I would hunt and kill any prey I ate, but never hunting for sport, that's just cruel. Then one day-”

“Then one day, I found her,” Equius interrupted, chewing on a particularly fatty piece of meat. “Slicing the throat of a majestic beast.”

“He readied his bow to kill me!” Nepeta said. John stammered, pushing up his glasses in curiosity. Nepeta continued without pause. “He was advancing towards me, loading an arrow, when, when-” she collapsed into a fit of giggles, hand pounding the table in amusement.

“....When the arrow breaks at my pure STRENGTH,” Equius finished lamely.

John snorted, “Dude, that's just sooo lame! I bet you were some epic hero giving a cheesy line to kill the murderer! Pfft.”

“Right!?” Nepeta said, slapping Equius on the back. “He totally would've offed me, too!”

“And I am very pleased that I did not, so can we please move on with the story?” the sweating male said urgently, wiping his forehead with the napkin. Gross.

“Fine, fine, fussy britches. So he realized that I was awesome, we teamed up to be the coolest scouts in the forest! Bonding over the hunt and furry porn art-”

“-He really did not have to know that part-”

“-We became unstoppable!” She struck her fork in the slab of meat then, throwing her hands in the air for dramatics. “Then we got defeated by other scouts and I got hurt real bad so Equius took me here and after realizing how dangerous the forest was we stayed with the circus the end,” she hurriedly

finished off, avoiding eye contact.

John caught on that this was where he dropped the conversation, so he focused more on eating.

After the meal, the rowdy bunch of circus performers thanked Nepeta for catching it, and eventually went back to their own tents and habits. Some started a bonfire to dance around, some began sharing stories of the old days, laughing about the embarrassing moments, breath catching on the heated ones, and some simply sat.

Deciding that climbing trees was the best option, he picked the tallest one he could find and quickly began scaling it. The rough bark scarped against his smooth, uncalloused hands, sap grating into his fingertips. The climb wasn't particularly long, but he hadn't done this sort of thing since when he was younger, dumber. Pieces of wood fell off and clattered to the grass innocently, but it still left John clutching a little tighter. Finally reaching the top branch, he lifted his head to taste the fresh air blowing through the night sky. It reminded him of his bedroom back home, the top tower with a window overlooking the entire land. Sometimes he would imagine just jumping out to fly, carrying him through the clouds.

John shook his head in defiance, pulling his arms tighter to his chest as he perched on the branch. No, this was his home now. He wasn’t going to think about Suburtia, because then he would think about when Dad would read him bedtime stories in a goofy voice, waving his arms around like a maniac. When John turned older, he would scoff and roll his eyes at his father, informing him of exactly how immature that was.

John wished he wasn’t such an idiot sometimes.

“Dwelling on the past?” a cool voice asked, coming from a lower branch. He looked down, seeing Aradia’s curious look on her face.

“Yeah, sorta,” he said, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. How did that girl know so much? He scooted over a little, allowing more room for the lithe girl to clamber up and take a comfortable spot next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both contemplating how things could have gone differently in their former lives, when Aradia speaks up. “It’s a gorgeous night.”

“Mmm,” John hummed in agreement.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, but John knows that she knows because she knows everything that everyone else knows or at least it seems like she knows. The tree shakes a little in the wind, which causes John to grip the bark like no other, because even if he dreams of flying he's terrified of falling. That's why he'd never make a good king; a good king could jump off a cliff blindly to save his kingdom when John would instead find a staircase.

"Stairs," John blurts, and guess what that was dumb.

"We're leaving tomorrow," she notes, showing no evidence that she heard that awful outburst from John. "You'll get used to constant travel with us. It took the last breath a little while, though."

"The last breath?" John bit his bottom lip in confusion, trying to watch for any hint of emotion in Aradia's face.

"Oh, did I say that?" she offers a plastic smile, with her eyes unblinking.

"Uh, yeah. Just then. Is your brain broken or something?" No response. "Araaadia, you still there?"

The petite girl jumps slightly, having to balance on her branch to keep from plummeting an ugly fall. "Oh, yes," she says. "I am sorry, I zoned out there." She blinks, her milky-white eyes revealing nothing of what she's really thinking. "I should go to sleep."

"Of course!" John says, offering an apologetic smile. "I mean, I didn't mean to keep you up by being up here. So, yeah, go to bed, and junk..."

"Goodnight, John," she hums, weaving her way back down to the ground like a silky ribbon.

"'Night, Aradia!" he calls, waving his hand down. The jacket the circus gave him was a little too large, so the sleeve reached his fingertips and looked rather ridiculous on him. He would have to inquire Kanaya about an adjustment. He didn't want to be a bother, but...

"Oh, and John," she interrupts, looking back up. John turns, raising an eyebrow. "You might want to get those sleeves looked at."

Immediately turning a strawberry red, John stammered,"Right…"

As the moon turned around the sky like clockwork, John forgot that he was supposed to sleep in a tent and instead dozed off in the tree.

~

“Hey, John!”

A groan erupted from within John, and he rubs at his face. Mumbling incoherent words, he waved away the voice, wanting to sink back into sleep.

“John, you’re in a tree. That’s incredibly silly.”

“I’m what?” he asks, and makes the incredibly idiotic decision to sit up on a precarious perch. His balance slips, and a yell bubbled in his throat as he’s plunging to the earth. With a small _oomph_ and a sickening stop in gravity, he opened his eyes to see Jade Harley holding him and grinning widely. She had caught him with a swiftness that makes John a little uneasy, but he thanks her earnestly as she set him down on the soft morning grass.

“Why were you sleeping in a tree?” She was not in her usual ostentatious circus outfit, instead electing for a casual skirt and updone hair. That’s right, it was moving day. The day to leave the current city and travel on the long caravan to unknown lands.

“I dunno, I guess I forgot that beds were something that I needed to sleep on,” he replied, sitting up and smoothing his hair done.

She laughed with an outstretched hand, helping John to stand and move on his own. “Well, though that’s mighty fine and dandy, we have to get going. Come on, you can sit up front in my cart with Karkat and me!”

Although staying in a small van with the grumpiest guy in the circus wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time, it was no use struggling; Jade was tugging on his arm and leading him towards the roads. “Aradia already packed your guys’s tent, so we’re all set to depart!”

Nodding numbly, he weaved his eyes across the landscape once more, appreciating the picturesque quality of the surrounding nature, before he clambered in a tight and rumbling van. It smelled vaguely of wax and mothballs, and John elected to sit on the floor, pressing his fingers in the starry rug. He didn't even notice Karkat, that is until the smaller boy lets out a grumbling moan.

"Why is the pixie stick riding with us? Doesn't he have a mute boy to go gallivanting with over fuck forest?" He asked harshly, turning a pointed look at Jade. A little behind John, she stuck herself in after giving final orders to Sollux to draw the horses forward. With a jolt, the caravan began moving, and the ex-prince immediately felt a little sick.

"Dave likes to ride with Aradia, you know that. Though what they sign to eachother, who knows," she said, and sat on the carpet next to John, beginning to take a small comb through her hair. It was filled with tangles and knotted ends, and with the length, John knew it would take at least an hour to comb through it all. "Besides, John is our friend! You should really work harder to make him feel welcome," she scolded, clicking her tongue in quick, succeeding motions. He noticed that Karkat was focused on Jade's fingers, which were working nimbly to loosen up her strands.

"Excuse me if I'm not rolling out the red carpet to welcome the snobbish douche prince and his sickening grin," he drawled, and opened a book as an excuse not to talk to him anymore. John, feeling awkward, cleared his throat.

"Is that 'The Brief But Meaningful Spark Between Two Opposites That Learn To Appreciate Their Differences And Love Each Other Along The Way'?" he asked, ruffling his own black hair a little.

Karkat's head whipped up, giving a sharp glare towards the heir. "Yes, it is. Now leave me alone."

"How do you know about shitty, I mean, inspiring, romantic literature, John?" Jade asked, tugging on a particularly difficult knot.

"My nanna used to read that dumb stuff to me all the time, in between mystery and action novels. She thought it would broaden my cultural views." He shrugged, leaning his cheek into his hand. "It was boring."

"Boring?!" Karkat boomed, looking up once more from his novel. "This particular work is anything but boring! The girl pretends to actually be in a hate relationship with the boy so their mutual peers wouldn't judge them, but in reality, their relationship is very much red and passionate! It's truly a call back to great philosophers!"

"It's also a call back to poorly written porn," Jade quippdc, and Karkat makes a pointed glare that doesn't last long, due to the jerking stop of the van.

Jade growled, and muttered about another comb being lost in her hair, and said to the boys,"I'm going to see what happened." With a quick wave, she climbed out.

"So, you like her, huh?" John spoke up, laying on his stomach and propping his head up with his shoulders. Instantly stiffening, Karkat closed the book with a snap, and peers down at John.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he barks defensively. "I have no such intention."

"Oh wow, you really do have a boner for her, huh?" the prince continuec, breaking into a grin. "Dude, that's hilarious. I mean, she's the fire that melted your crabby heart. When's the wedding? How many babies? Two? Five?"

"Shut your flying trap before I take this book and shove it down there," Karkat said, but his confidence was gone. John's figured out his big bad secret, and it was pretty easy to find out, after all.

"It's all right, I won't tell." John rolled his eyes, people and crushes! So defensive!

"Fine, whatever," he grumbled, pushing his own hair back aggressively.

"A little advice, though," John said, rolling around onto his back. "Tell her that her hair looks pretty when she comes back."

Karkat didn't get to respond, because the door swung open again, revealing a panicked Jade.

"You guys, it's the police. We're suspected for smuggling a fugitive, and they're arresting the entire caravan."


End file.
